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NOEL    BACH MENDELSSOHN HEANDEL MOZART BEETHOVEN HAYDN J HAYDN M


Ame viens, et haut proclame


Jésus Jésus mon Sauveur


Au pied de la croix sanglante


Galilee, bright Galilee


Oui tu es digne de régner


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School thy feelings



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School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.
School thy feelings; there is power
In the cool, collected mind.
Passion shatters reason’s tower,
Makes the clearest vision blind.
School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.
School thy feelings; condemnation
Never pass on friend or foe,
Though the tide of accusation
Like a flood of truth may flow.
Hear defense before deciding,
And a ray of light may gleam,
Showing thee what filth is hiding
Underneath the shallow stream.
School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.
Should affliction’s acrid vial
Burst o’er thy unsheltered head,
School thy feelings to the trial;
Half its bitterness hath fled.
Art thou falsely, basely, slandered?
Does the world begin to frown?
Gauge thy wrath by wisdom’s standard;
Keep thy rising anger down.
School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.
Rest thyself on this assurance:
Time’s a friend to innocence,
And the patient, calm endurance
Wins respect and aids defense.
Noblest minds have finest feelings;
Quiv’ring strings a breath can move;
And the gospel’s sweet revealings
Tune them with the key of love.
School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.
Hearts so sensitively molded
Strongly fortified should be,
Trained to firmness and enfolded
In a calm tranquility.
Wound not willfully another;
Conquer haste with reason’s might;
School thy feelings, sister, brother;
Train them in the path of right.
School thy feelings, O my brother;
Train thy warm, impulsive soul.
Do not its emotions smother,
But let wisdom’s voice control.


Called to the feast


Bats des mains


Rejoice in the Lord


C'est de Toi, Dieu tout bon


Que ces lieux soient visités